Juliette Has A Gun
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The jasmine lactone hits immediately—a creamy, butter-slicked floral that's more dairy than garden. Vanilla absolute surges underneath, not sweet so much as thick and resinous, whilst the amyris adds a dry, almost mentholated woodiness that keeps everything from collapsing into dessert. It's disorienting in the best way, like smelling a pastry made of skin.
The orris butter emerges now, powdery and cool, tempering the initial richness whilst the jasmine sambac begins to show its face—though it's been so processed by the creamy elements that it feels like jasmine remembered rather than jasmine present. Sandalwood and ambrette form a soft, musky foundation, slightly soapy but expensive, like standing in the bathroom of a five-star hotel. The whole thing takes on a second-skin quality, hovering close but persistent.
What remains is largely synthetic architecture—Iso E Super and salicylates creating that characteristic woody-musky halo that's more felt than smelled. The vanilla has gone gauzy, barely there, just enough sweetness to remind you this once had body. It's the scent of clean laundry mixed with skin warmth, abstract and comforting, a molecular cloud that makes people lean in slightly without knowing why.
Sunny Side Up is Romano Ricci's love letter to the synthetic sublime, a fragrance that wears its laboratory origins like a badge of honour. The vanilla absolute here isn't your grandmother's comfort blanket—it's been stretched thin and molecular, made translucent by the clever use of jasmine lactone, that peculiar aroma chemical that smells like butter melting into a white floral. The amyris adds a gauzy, slightly peppery woodiness that keeps the composition from tipping into gourmand territory, whilst the orris butter lends an expensive, face-powder softness that whispers rather than shouts. This is milky, yes, but with an angular synthetic backbone courtesy of the Iso E Super and salicylates that gives the whole thing a diffuse, skin-but-better quality.
The jasmine sambac absolute does interesting work here, its indolic edges smoothed away by the creamy vanilla and ambrette musk combination until it becomes almost unrecognisable—more of an unctuous texture than an identifiable flower. The sandalwood provides just enough woody structure to prevent this from floating off into pure abstraction. What you end up with is something oddly compelling: a scent that evokes the warmth of bare skin in morning light, the particular smell of expensive moisturiser, a cashmere jumper that's absorbed months of ambient living. It's for those who appreciate the beauty of well-executed aromachemicals, who understand that "synthetic" isn't a dirty word but a palette. Wear this when you want to smell simultaneously expensive and effortless, when you want something that feels rather than announces.
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3.5/5 (75)